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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



KING PHILIP OF 
PRIMROSE STREET 

ELIZABETH L. FLINT 




RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 
BOSTON 



Copyright 191S by Elizabeth L. Flint 
All rights reaerted 






w'"^ 



The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 



V 



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€Ci.A31445X 



To 
the memory of 

PHILIP 

who met accidental death 

while this little story was 

in preparation 



KING PHILIP 

OF 

PRIMROSE STREET 



KING PHILIP OF PRIMROSE STREET 

IT was New Year's morning, and as 
the bells in the steeples of the city 
were ringing to usher in the New Year, 
a little babe found its way into this 
old world of ours. A little babe, the 
sweetest thing that ever came to gladden 
human hearts and homes. This is no 
unusual event, but it was an unusual event 
for Primrose Street, which might well have 
been so named from its prim rows of houses 
which stood just so many feet from their 
neighbors, and whose lawns and gardens 
were always smooth and well kept because 
they were never trodden by little feet, 
there being not one child on the length of 
Primrose Street. 

A trifle higher, socially and topogra- 
phically, stood Evergreen Terrace, with 
its rows of tall spruce and arbor vitae trees, 

7 



8 King Philip 

its beautiful houses and sparkling fountains, 
one of which was reported to have borne a 
placard saying, "Dogs are requested not 
to wash in this fountain." This report, 
however, was never substantiated. The 
residents of the Terrace were people whose 
fortunes had been made and who were living 
in ease and comparative luxury where they 
could look down on Primrose Street and 
watch the effort of their neighbors as they 
struggled to reach a somewhat higher 
station. 

Primrose Street might be said to be 
divided into three parts; the first part at 
the head of the street being composed of 
families whose names consisted of three or 
more syllables. There were the Fotherin- 
gills, the Van Osmons, the Underwoods and 
the St. Sylvesters. Toward the centre of 
the street the names, for the most part, 
could boast of but two syllables, while at 
the foot of the street they ended with plain 
John Blake. 



of Primrose Street 9 

It was in the home of the Sheldons, 
about midway of Primrose Street, that the 
little child came on this New Year's morn- 
ing; a home, which for twelve years had 
been, like those of its neighbors, a childless 
one. As Alice Sheldon came out of the 
valley into the sunshine, she smiled faintly 
but sweetly as she looked into the face of 
her husband who was bending anxiously 
over her, and said: "Hugh, must we apolo- 
gize to Primrose Street?" 

Hugh Sheldon drew his six feet of superb 
manhood to its full height as he answered, 
"Not in a thousand years. We'll make all 
the neighborhood green with envy before 
the year is over." He touched with tremb- 
ling lips the pale forehead on the pillow and 
stole quietly out of the room. 

The following evening, Major Carrington 
remarked to his wife that a great event had 
taken place on their street, and told her of 
the birth of the Sheldon's child. Mrs. 



10 KingfPhilip 

Carrington's handsome face was a study as 
the Major watched it from behind his 
evening paper. Surprise, anger, resent- 
ment seemed strugghng for mastery, as the 
usually pale face turned to scarlet and then 
grew white again. The major stooped and 
picked up the dainty bit of sewing which 
had fallen to the floor and as he gave it to 
his wife he noticed that it was a baby's 
frock. Mrs. Carrington flushed almost 
guiltily as she said: "This is for my sister's 
child, as you ought to know." 

"Ah, I see," replied the Major calmly, 
"babies are permitted in Montana." 

The woman could endure it no longer and 
in a voice wrought to a high pitch she cried 
out, "Our street will never be the same 
again; this is the first time a baby has been 
born here, and we do not want them. Our 
lawns and gardens will be ruined and there 
will be no more peace in our quiet neighbor- 
hood. This is the first, but of course there 



of Primrose Street 11 

will be more! I cannot bear it, I will not 
bear it," and she gathered her work to- 
gether and left the room. 

It was true that this was the first child 
on the street, but Primrose was neither a 
very old nor a very long street. Major 
Carrington was more than twenty years 
his wife's senior and he loved little children 
with all the warmth of his big, tender heart. 
To him it seemed a thing not to be compre- 
hended that any one, least of all a woman, 
could steel a heart against a helpless babe 
and prefer houses and gardens and fountains 
to a little warm bundle of humanity. He 
was a wise man, however, and knew that 
words were worse than useless in his wife's 
present state of mind, so he finished his 
paper and went to his room, tapping at her 
door simply to say good-night. His heart 
however, was strangely drawn toward the 
little babe in the Sheldon's home, and he 
determined that he would ask to see him 
as soon as it could be made convenient. 



12 King Philip 

As Dr. Strong left the house that morning 
he called the father of the child into the 
library and said to him, "There is a slight 
malformation in one of the baby's feet; 
have the nurse keep him away from his 
mother as much as possible until she is 
strong enough to bear it"; then seeing the 
look of pain on the man's face, he added, 
placing a hand upon the bowed head: 
"Remember, my son, better a spur in the 
head than three in the heel," and with a 
warm grasp of the hand the doctor passed 
out into the crisp winter air. 

A few days afterward the Major met 
Hugh Sheldon and inquired for the child, 
expressing his desire to see him when it 
should seem best, and a most cordial 
invitation was given for the following Sun- 
day. "Mrs. Sheldon sees little of the boy, 
and I shall be delighted to show him," 
remarked the proud father. No word as to 
the little misshapen foot had been spoken 



of Primrose Street 13 

since that morning of the doctor's mention 
of it, and there was no need to speak of it 
at present. "I will keep it from her until 
the nurse leaves," thought the father, "and 
then perhaps Dr. Strong will break it to 
her. I'm afraid I'm not man enough to do 
it, God pity us all!" 

Major Carrington would not for worlds 
have told his wife of his proposed call at 
the Sheldon's house, not that he was at all 
ashamed of it but he was a peace-loving man 
and dreaded the little household skirmish 
which would surely take place if his plans 
were made known. Accordingly, after Mrs. 
Carrington had gone to the church service, 
he made his way to the home of the Sheldons 
and was ushered in by Mr. Sheldon, who 
asked him at once into the little newly 
appointed nursery at the head of the stairs. 
Taking the babe from his crib he carried 
him to the Major who held out his arms to 
take the atom of humanity. 



14 King Philip 

The father smiled as he gave his son to 
their visitor, saying, "I didn't know you 
could handle babies, Major, but you are 
doing as good a job at it as I do, that's a 
fact." 

The child had been given the name of 
Philip King and the Major playfully called 
him King Philip and so it was, that in time 
he became King Philip to almost every one, 
and from that day he possessed a hitherto 
unoccupied portion of the big Major's 
warm heart. Never a Sunday passed but 
he made his call at the home of the Sheldons' 
and always for a few moments he would hold 
the little bundle which the father brought 
and carefully placed in his arms. 

When Philip was six weeks old, Alice 
Sheldon felt strong enough to have the care 
of him herself and at last there came the day 
when the nurse said, "I must leave tomor- 
row," and Hugh Sheldon felt his heart sink 
within him. 



oj Primrose Street 15 

"I will not be coward enough to ask the 
nurse to tell the child's mother and I will 
not alarm her by calling the doctor to tell 
her what I ought to be man enough to do 
myself; but Heaven help me, how can I 
look into her eyes and say to her, 'Our 
little son is a cripple!'" That night, long 
after he should have been asleep, he turned 
and tossed restlessly until he could bear it 
no longer and rising, he dressed hastily and 
passed out on an upper veranda where he 
looked up to the clear winter sky and 
reached out his arms as a little child holds 
up his hands to be taken in the strong arms 
of his father. 

What watcher has not felt the influence 
of the night wind? In the daylight the 
wind comes tapping at our windows and 
knocking at our doors and seems to say, 
"How do you do this morning? I cannot 
stop a moment; I'm on my way to the next 
town and must rush along." But in the 



16 King Philip 

night all this is changed. The night wind 
comes like a lone traveller up the street, 
sighing like one who has lost his companions 
on the way and must make his midnight 
journey alone, ever sighing, ever crying as 
for his lost friends. Hugh Sheldon felt 
the power and spell of the lonely wind as it 
passed through the tree tops, and in a 
voice suppressed with pain and trembling 
with emotion, he whispered, "You are no 
more alone than I. We all live our lives 
alone, let us be friends." 

Soothed and comforted by the wintry 
wind, he raised his head once more to the 
stars and returned to his bed, and almost 
instantly fell into a peaceful sleep, only 
awakening when there came a tap at his 
door and a voice calling him to breakfast. 
In an hour he must be away to his work and 
when he returned the nurse would be gone. 
He must tell his secret at once — he would 
not be a coward — he could not put it off 



o/ Primrose Street 17 

and he made his way without hesitation to 
the room across the hall where were the 
mother and child. 

Alice Sheldon was wide awake and greet- 
ed her husband with her brightest smile. 
He hardly knew how to begin, but he must 
tell her, and so he seated himself on the 
edge of the bed and taking one of the thin 
white hands in his own he said, "Alice, 
there is something I must say to you this 
morning. I hate to do it — God only knows 
how much I dread it. It is about our 
little Philip," — and then the strong man 
bowed his head upon his breast and broke 
into a sob. 

In an instant the mother raised herself 
from her pillow and drew the man to her 
side. "Hush, you need not tell me — it is 
about his poor little foot," she whispered. 
"Did you think that I, his mother, did not 
know it? Why, Hugh, I have known it 
from the very first," and lifting his head. 



18 King Philip 

Hugh Sheldon saw such a smile on the 
mother's face as he had never seen before, 
a smile radiant with love and hope and 
tenderness. "Now run and eat your break- 
fast before it grows cold and to-night you 
may tell me how you found out my secret, 
for I thought you did not know." 

The child grew strong and sturdy and 
seemed in all respects a perfectly healthy 
babe, except for what, to each other, they 
called, "his poor little foot." Once the 
mother ventured to ask if it were a punish- 
ment upon them because — but she went no 
further, for the father's hand was lifted in 
protest, as he said, "Never mention it 
again, Alice. We did want him, only 
perhaps at the first, the very first, we 
did not know it," and the matter was never 
again alluded to in the light of punishment. 

It would be difficult to find a sweeter, 
sunnier child than was little Philip and he 
looked like the sunbeam that he was. His 



o/ Primrose Street 19 

bright golden hair was like sunshine itself 
and lay in beautiful rings about his well 
formed head, making a golden crown for 
the infant king, while his eyes were like 
bits of blue sky as to color and shone like 
lustrous stars. It was an easy matter to 
hide his deformity while he was a little babe. 
He was kept in long clothes until he was 
long past the age when most children are 
kicking about in short ones and not until 
he was nearly two years of age did he show 
any disposition to use his feet, always 
being carried or wheeled about in his dainty 
white carriage. 

Major Carrington was the first to know 
of the affliction and he kept it a profound 
secret and loved the child the more. But it 
could not be kept a secret forever, and 
gradually it became known that the babe 
was crippled, but not hopelessly so. "After 
he is seven years old there might be a chance 
for him," the doctor had said, and so they 



20 King Philip 

lived and hoped and neither father nor 
mother ever lost faith that in a few years 
their boy would be as other boys. 

When Philip was four years of age, 
he began to ask so many questions about 
the sky, the birds and flowers and all the 
wonders of stars and moon that the father 
and mother tried to teach him about the 
good God who made all the beauties of 
earth and sky, but alas! how hard a task it 
is to endeavor to explain to a little child 
what we do not ourselves understand, and 
so it came to be almost impossible for 
Hugh and Alice Sheldon to satisfy the 
mind of their little son. "We must take 
him to church soon," said the mother. 
"There he will learn more than we can ever 
hope to teach him," and to this the father 
agreed. It was years since either had 
attended a church service and it was still 
longer since they had read even one chapter 
in God's holy word, and they felt their 



of Primrose Street 21 

utter helplessness as they strove in vain to 
make the child understand, as they had 
been made to do in their childhood, the love 
and care of the Father in Heaven. So 
they cast about in their minds for a church 
that would best suit the needs of the humble 
in heart, for such they had found themselves 
to be, feeling sure that such an one would 
meet the needs of their little son. Instinct- 
ively, they turned away from the large and 
fashionable churches of their own neighbor- 
hood and at length it was decided that a 
plain, unpretentious chapel on Margin 
Street would best meet their need. The 
pastor, the Reverend Herbert Kimball, 
was a man devoted to his parish and un- 
commonly beloved by all who knew him. 

"We are going to God's house to-morrow, 
Philip," said the mother as she put the 
child in his crib one night, "and we will 
hear about the good God who made us all 
and everything that we love," and the boy 



22 King Philip 

fell asleep with his sweetest smile upon his 
face as he said to himself, "To God's house, 
God's house." 

The Sabbath dawned clear and beautiful 
as only a June Sabbath can dawn, and Philip, 
dressed in pure white, was taken to his 
carriage and the three started toward the 
Margin Street chapel. His parents always 
avoided the street cars when the child was 
with them, if possible, and this morning 
they left the small cart at the door of the 
church and the father took his son in his 
arms and slipped into a pew near the rear 
and held the boy on his knee. The small 
chapel was filled with the fragrance of 
roses and liles which were massed around 
the pulpit, and there seemed to be an air 
of unwonted joy and almost of festivity 
throughout the place which neither Hugh 
Sheldon nor his wife quite understood. If 
they had ever heard of Children's Sunday 
they had forgotten its existence, but they 



of Primrose Street 23 

could not have chosen a better Sunday for 
their little son's first day at church. 

The Reverend Herbert Kimball would 
never have been a success in a large city 
church and he had the grace to know it, 
and so he was content to minister to the 
needs of this humble parish, teaching, 
guiding, consoling and almost loving them 
into the kingdom of God. There was a 
little impediment, or more properly speak- 
ing, a slight hesitation in his speech which 
would debar him from many a pulpit, but 
while this defect was perfectly apparent in 
his sermon, it was entirely absent when he 
approached the throne of God in prayer 
As he raised his hand and said simply, 
"Let us pray," he led his people almost 
into the holy of holies and a deep hush fell 
upon the little congregation who sat with 
bowed heads and bated breath. 

"Our Father who art in Heaven, we thank 
thee for this beautiful world which thou 



24 King Philip 

hast made for us to enjoy, for the birds and 
flowers, the trees with their grateful shade 
and pleasant fruit. We thank thee for the 
little children whom thou hast placed with- 
in our homes. Help us to guide these little 
feet in the Heavenward way, and grant, O 
loving Father, that not one of us may cause 
them to stumble by living lives of which 
thou dost not approve. Keep every pre- 
cious life as in the hollow of thine hand and 
may not one be missing when thou makest 
up the jewels in the Heavenly home." 

Alice Sheldon, glancing at the boy in his 
father's arms, thought she saw a tear fall 
on his sunny head, but her own eyes were 
so full that she could not be sure, tho' she 
smiled into her husband's eyes one of her 
rarest, sweetest smiles. 

The odor of the flowers and the warm 
stillness of the room soon overcame Philip 
with drowsiness, and leaning on his father's 
breast he fell asleep, and when he awoke he 



of Primrose Street 25 

was in his own white bed at home. E very- 
pleasant Sunday after this found them at 
the Margin Street chapel. It was not long 
before the minister called at their home and 
finding little Philip at play on the porch 
was astonished to hear him call, "O mother, 
come quick! God has come to see us, he 
is here on our veranda." 

A warm friendship sprang up between the 
minister and the Sheldons. To him was 
confided every hope and every fear that 
they had entertained for their son's future. 
"When he is seven," they said, "we have 
great hopes that his poor little foot can be 
made more like the other and that he can 
run and play like other boys." But there 
was always a note of sadness in the mother's 
voice, tho' she tried so hard to speak with 
cheer. 

When Philip was five years old his father 
brought home one night a tiny crutch. It 
was pitifully small, and when his mother 



26 King Philip 

saw it she could not keep back her tears. 
She had known that it was to come and had 
nerved herself, as she had thought, to meet 
the occasion, but it was too much for her 
to bear, and she gave way to a flood of tears, 
a luxury in which, woman though she was, 
she almost never indulged. 

The child was delighted when his father 
next morning brought forward the crutch 
and began to teach its use. "You will 
soon be able to run and play and jump and 
we will have good times together, won't we, 
little son.f^" said the father as the boy began 
quite deftly to make use of the little crutch. 
"We'll have famous walks, you and I, or 
I miss my guess," and the child laughed and 
looked upon it as a grand holiday. So far 
he had never been to school nor had he ever 
had a playmate except his mother and 
father and the kind hearted Major, whom he 
always called "My Major," and who never 
failed to make at least one call a week on 



o/ Primrose Street 27 

little King Philip. Besides these there was 
always his pretty brown spaniel, who was 
constantly with his small master, waking 
or sleeping. 

"We ought to find a real playmate for the 
child," said Hugh Sheldon one evening after 
the little fellow was asleep. "He is growing 
stronger now and gets about wonderfully 
well, but he needs child life to make him like 
other children. Don't you think we ought 
to find a little boy or girl with whom he can 
play.?" 

"Perhaps so; I have thought of it myself, 
but there is not a child on Primrose Street 
nor on Evergreen Terrace, and where shall 
we find one suitable for him.^^" replied the 
mother. "Surely not in Emerald lane," 
she added with one of her sad little smiles. 
But the unexpected often happens and it 
came about that Emerald lane was the very 
place in which Philip found a little compan- 
ion. 



28 King Philip 

Emerald lane was a small place running 
back of Primrose Street and for the most 
part occupied by the families of coachmen 
or chauffeurs employed by the residents of 
that neighborhood. One modest cottage, 
however, contained a small boy and his 
grandmother, Mrs. Maloon and little Peter. 
Mrs. Maloon's occupation and aim in life 
seemed to be the preparation for winter. 
She knit mittens and stockings and mufflers, 
braided warm heavy rugs and patched and 
mended little Peter's clothes as well as her 
own, at work all through the long summer 
days in order that she might, as she ex- 
pressed it, "get ready for winter." Peter 
Maloon, senior, her husband, had long 
since gone where no such preparation is 
necessary, and her son, little Peter's father, 
had somewhat recently followed and the 
boy's mother, tired and discouraged, had 
meekly closed her eyes one night to open 
them no more on earth. Then it was that 



of Primrose Street 29 

the grandmother arose to the occasion and 
announced her intention of moving into a 
new locaHty, with the view of making some- 
thing of Httle Peter. The good woman 
felt that she could best do this by having 
entirely new surroundings. "I intend to 
buy a small place," said she to a neighbor 
one day. This was repeated to every one 
in the court and variously commented on. 
"Well, did you ever!" "Listen to the airs 
of her!" "Where's the money coming 
from-f^" All these and many more, none 
of which failed to reach Mrs. Maloon's 
ears, were common exclamations, but she 
answered no questions and kept about her 
business as usual, until one morning a wagon 
came and took the furniture from the shabby 
tenement house. 

"Run now, Johnnie, follow the team and 
see where it's agoin'," called one of the 
neighbors to her son who was playing on the 
door-step. "Look sharp now and tell me 



30 King Philip 

where they go and I'll give ye a penny to 
buy ye a hand-sucker," this being a form 
of confection very much in favor with the 
children of Flat Iron court. 

It was a long distance from the Court to 
Emerald lane, but the boy finally caught 
on to the back of a wagon and found himself 
at last in front of the little cottage where 
Mrs.Maloon and her grandson were await- 
ing the arrival of their goods. It was a 
tiny dwelling, formerly a carriage house and 
more recently a garage which had been sold 
as the owner had died and Mrs. Maloon had 
purchased the building. With the money 
which came to her at the death of her hus- 
band and son through their life insurance, 
she had been able to make a comfortable 
home for herself and "little Peter," as he was 
always called — Pete, Peter and little Peter 
being three generations of the Maloon family 
of whom now only one was left. "If our 
blessed Lord was born in a stable I reckon 



of Primrose Street 31 

me and little Peter can live in a carriage 
house; leastways we'll try it a spell, now it's 
all fixed fit for a king. I always meant to 
have a happy home and now that Pete and 
Peter are gone I'm going to have it." This 
remark was addressed to little Peter but 
not until he was fast asleep, his grandmother 
knowing full well the free translation which 
it might receive in Emerald lane. 

Johnnie Daley felt that his "hand sucker" 
had been dearly earned and that his labor 
was out of all proportion to his reward and 
finally his mother said "Here, Johnnie, take 
this nickel and go to the movin' pictures, 
while I run and tell the folkses where Mis' 
Maloon's took herself; gettin' pretty high 
toned now the old man's gone." 

Mrs. Maloon cared not for the tongues of 
her old neighbors ; she was bent on bringing 
up her grandson in the way he should go and 
when people asked her if she were not dis- 
couraged after the careers of her husband 



32 King Philip 

and son she replied cheerfully, "No. I didn't 
have the bringing up of Pete, and Peter 
had the bad example of his father; and now 
little Peter will have neither of them to 
look to. He always favored my side of the 
house anyway — he's all Casey. I mean to 
give him a chance to grow up good and use- 
ful and he couldn't get the chance in that 
court, no way I could fix it." To the credit 
of both it should be said that little Peter 
was bidding fair to be a satisfaction to his 
good old grandmother. 

Children were almost as scarce in Emerald 
lane as they were in Primrose Street, 
chauffeurs and coachmen without such en- 
cumbrances being most desired; and so it 
was that little Peter found himself with but 
few playmates, most of the boys being too 
old or too young to care for his company. 
One afternoon, as he was walking along the 
lane kicking his bare feet about in the dust, 
he caught a glimpse of a small boy peering 



of Primrose Street 33 

through the tall thick hedge which separated 
Primrose Street from Emerald lane. The 
boy was dressed in pure white and had a 
small white cap set well back on a head of 
sunny curls, and under his right arm was a 
tiny crutch. On the other side of the hedge 
was Peter Maloon, as marked a contrast as 
could well be imagined. His feet and legs 
were bare, as was his head which was almost 
as smooth and hard as a croquet ball. His 
face was round and had as many freckles 
to the square inch as could gain a residence 
there, if indeed, the word square could be 
used in connection with anything so round 
as little Peter. His mouth gave one the 
impression that he had been brought up on 
"prunes and prisms'* all his life, while a 
pair of bright steel gray eyes, set deeply in 
his head, gave him the appearance of being 
as wise as the proverbial owl. 

The boys stared at each other with child- 
like frankness. Finally Peter said, "Say, 
what d'ye wear all those curls for?" 



34 King Philip 

Philip replied, without the slightest hesi- 
tation, "Why do you have all those spatters 
on your face?" 

The prunes and prisms cracked and burst 
and a merry laugh rang out on the afternoon 
sleepiness of the street as Peter cried out, 
"Well, you're all right if you have got 
curls." Thus it was that little King Philip 
found his first real play fellow. 

Philip was now nearly seven years of age 
and the father and mother were making 
plans for sending him to school the coming 
autumn. He was ambitious to go like the 
other boys and it was almost decided that 
he should attend a small private school in 
the neighborhood, although if he could have 
had his own way he would gladly have gone 
with Peter Maloon. This, however, was 
out of the question, and so arrangements 
were made for the Misses Northwood to 
have him enter their school at the beginning 
of the fall term. 



o/ Primrose Street 35 

Peter would soon be nine years of age and 
it was his great desire to have a party by 
way of celebration on his birthday, which 
was to come at the middle of September. 
After considerable coaxing he gained the 
consent of his grandmother with the under- 
standing that it should be a very small 
party. "Just three or four boys is all we 
can have in this little mite of a house which 
wasn't cut out for dinner parties at all," 
the good woman explained. "If you want 
to invite two or three of your mates I won't 
object; but let them be a good sort of boys, 
that's all." 

In a few days Peter approached his 
grandmother, saying, "Grammy, will you 
let me have anything I want for my party .'^" 

"Well, no, I won't be saying that," she 
replied guardedly. "You might be want- 
ing something I couldn't afford to give ye, 
but I'll let ye have all ye can eat of what we 
have." 



36 King Philip 

"O no, Grammy," cried the boy; "I don't 
mean anything to eat', I mean something to 
do^ something I want to have." 

**Well," answered Mrs. Maloon, "I 
never buy a pig in a poke and I won't 
make no promises in the dark. Speak up 
and tell me what it is ye want, and don't 
hang back as if ye were ashamed of it." 

Thus encouraged, Peter burst forth, 
"Well, it's a bonfire!" 

The grandmother hesitated while the 
boy stood before her with his hands in 
his pockets and a wistful look in his deep- 
set eyes. "I suppose ye're wanting another 
Fourth of July; well now, I'll tell ye what 
I'll do. If ye'll clean up the yard all fine 
and neat, every stick and bit of brush, I 
don't know but I'll leave ye have it, but 
there'll be no match touched to it unless 
I'm there to see to|it myself. Now remem- 
ber," she called as Peter, smiling and danc- 
ing, was off at once to begin his task. 



o/ Primrose Street 37 

Of course Peter had insisted on asking 
Philip Sheldon to his little party, but his 
grandmother objected, saying that, "Those 
rich people would never let him come; 
besides he's delicate-like and can't stand 
the rough ways of the other children." 
Seeing Peter's disappointment she added, 
"You may ask him if ye like but don't be 
no ways put out if his mother tells ye 
no." 

But Mrs. Sheldon did not say no. "O 
yes, Peter, if he is well he may go; it is to 
be on Monday, is it, at half past three? 
Certainly he may go, and I thank you for 
asking him, it will be his first party." 

Peter was off on the wings of the wind and 
disappeared through a gap in the hedge 
which had been made for the accomodation 
of the two boys. In another moment he 
stood before his grandmother with shining 
eyes. "He can, he can," he shouted, "his 
mother said he could come. She's the best 



S8 King Philip 

lady in town 'cept you Grammy," he added 
as he gave her an affectionate hug. 

The Saturday before the eventful day was 
very warm and toward the latter part of 
the afternoon, Phillip made his way toward 
the gap in the hedge just as Mrs. Carring- 
ton, dressed in a filmy gown of white, came 
out of her house and walked toward the 
hedge which separated Primrose Street 
from Emerald lane. Never since the even- 
ing that the Major had told her of the birth 
of the child had she in any way alluded to 
him and neither, indeed, had he. Though 
she had often seen him she had never 
spoken to the boy or apparently noticed 
his existence. On this Saturday after- 
noon she carried a small basket, intend- 
ing to gather some blackberries for tea, and 
close at her side was her little white dog, 
Beauty. The dog and Philip were the best 
of friends and Beauty came forward and 
began to lick the hand of the child and to 



of Primrose Street 39 

jump about in delight, which Mrs. Carring- 
ton feigned not to notice. 

Philip peered through the hedge and saw- 
that the Maloon cottage was closed and 
that Peter was nowhere in sight. As he 
turned to go away, a tiny red flame peeped 
out from under the pile of brush which had 
been collected for the birthday festival. 
Just at that moment Mrs. Carrington 
turned and as she did so the creeping flame 
caught the edge of her gauzy dress. Philip 
screamed in alarm and Mrs. Carrington 
tripping over a trailing blackberry vine 
stumbled and fell headlong. It was but 
an instant and poor little Philip leaning on 
his bit of a crutch knew not what to do. 
His first thought was to ask God to help 
him, so he lifted his clear childish voice and 
cried: *'0 Father God, please send some one 
to help my Major's mother. Do make 
Beauty bark so loud that some one will 
come and help my dear Major's mother," 



40 King Philip 

and saying this he threw himself upon the 
woman, who lay stunned by the fall with 
the red flame all about her. 

It was all over in a moment, for the 
Reverend Herbert Kimball was coming 
down the street at a rapid pace — the 
frantic barking of the dog — the shrill high- 
pitched voice of the child told him to 
quicken his pace and he was a man of action. 
Taking off his coat he soon beat out the fire 
and threw th6 garment over the prostrate 
woman. Tenderly he lifted the child in 
his arms and pressed him to his breast to 
see if the little heart were still beating. 

"He has fainted, it will be well with him 
in a moment and I must rouse the woman. 
She is stunned and must be badly burned." 
He placed the boy upon the grass and turn- 
ed his attention to Mrs. Carrington. As he 
touched her lightly she opened her eyes 
with a startled look and gazed about her. 
The minister spoke calmly as he tried to 



o/ Primrose Street 41 

assist her to her feet, but she fell back with 
a groan. 

"Tell me where you live," said he, "and 
I will go for help." But help was already 
at hand, for the Major came toward them, 
walking leisurely through the garden. He 
saw it all — his wife's blackened gown — 
the good man was trying to help her rise, 
and his dear little Philip stretched out upon 
the grass. Together the men partly carried, 
partly led the woman to her home. There 
would be no scar on the fair face, but her 
back and an arm would always bear the 
marks of that afternoon. 

And what of little Philip? King Philip, 
the Major's beloved comrade? Well, he 
was nearly seven. 

Together the two men knelt over the 
little form as it lay before them and each 
looked at the other filled with thoughts he 
dared not utter. The Major gathered the 
child in his strong arms — he had known 



4t King Philip 

and loved him all his short life and it seemed 
fitting that he should carry him home. The 
minister stooped and picked up the pitiful 
little crutch and as they turned toward the 
Sheldon home they met the mother coming 
in search of her son. She wore a gown of 
delicate blue — one which Philip much ad- 
mired — and she stepped smilingly forward 
to greet them, for it was no new thing to 
see the boy in the Major's arms. In another 
instant her heart gave a great bound and 
almost stood still. 

"Tell me, O tell me," she cried, **what has 
happened. Give him to me. Major, where 
is he hurt? Has he fainted? Tell me, 
O, tell me!" 

Gently they bore the child to the house 
and hastily called his father and a physician. 
The latter was first to arrive but there was 
no need. Philip had been so frightened that 
the weak young heart had simply ceased to 
beat. There had been no suffering — no 
pain, and he was almost seven. 



of Primrose Street 43 

Up in the beautiful Carrington house 
there was pain and there was suffering. 
When the first was over it came out httle 
by Httle. The tiny red flame — the fall — 
the little one's effort to save "My Major's 
mother," as he had always called Mrs. 
Carrington, looking upon her as bearing 
the same relation to the Major that his own 
mother did to him, his dearest earthly 
possession. 

There was no scar left by fire on the 
beautiful features of Mrs. Carrington; only 
on an arm was there left any trace outward- 
ly, but it was not without its effect on the 
heart and life of the hitherto proud and 
haughty woman. A few weeks after little 
Philip had been laid away she expressed a 
desire to see the child's mother and the 
Major suggested that she be asked to come 
to the house, but this Mrs. Carrington re- 
fused to allow. "No, I will go to her as 
soon as I am able ; I cannot ask her to come 



44 King Philip 

here," she replied; and so one afternoon 
when she thought AHce Sheldon would be 
alone she walked slowly and painfully 
toward the home of her neighbor. She 
had never crossed the threshold before and 
her heart was beating so rapidly that words 
seemed impossible; but she was not a 
woman to turn back when once her mind 
was made up, and in a moment Mrs. Shel- 
don opened the door and the two women 
stood face to face. For a second both stood 
transfixed and then Mrs. Carrington gath- 
ered the mother in her arms and both broke 
into sobs. Very tenderly the visitor led 
Alice Sheldon to a couch and took a seat 
beside her. 

*'Do not try to talk," she said. "I have 
something which I wish to tell you, I must 
tell it, I cannot keep it any longer. You 
know how I felt about your little boy at 
the first, but O, I have never told any one 
how I felt about him afterward. You never 



of Primrose Street 46 

knew how I longed for him for my own. 
Many and many a time I have walked past 
this house just to see his little clothes hang- 
ing on the line, and one day the wind blew 
one of his tiny socks right in my path and I 
carried it home and kept it hid where no one 
could see it but myself. O, how I loved 
King Philip, tho' I would not own it even to 
myself; and now it is too late, may God 
forgive my wicked heart!'* 

She ceased to speak and the room was 
very still save for the broken sobs of both the 
women. Then the mother tried to speak 
through her tears. "O do not call yourself 
wicked. You did not mean to be, you were 
not wicked. Think what a dear friend the 
Major has always been to our little boy. 
God has been very kind to us, He let us keep 
him almost seven years. He never could 
have been like other children and now he 
will never be tired or sick; we would not 
call him back to us." 



46 King Philip 

There was silence in the room, a silence 
broken only by the faint ticking of the clock ; 
and then the mother said: "I think I will 
tell you of something that happened the 
day we laid Philip away to rest. You may 
remember that it was cloudy that afternoon 
and had rained a little tho' it was as warm 
as springtime. As we passed into the 
cemetery we could not bear the sight of the 
little empty grave, and so we kept our eyes 
on the man, a common looking man in a 
brown sweater, who was taking all the 
beautiful flowers and throwing them in a 
heap upon the ground, at least that is the 
way it seemed to us. Afterwards we saw 
that he had been so arranging them that 
not one particle of the earth was to be seen 
and among these flowers was a bunch of 
marigolds which Peter Maloon had brought 
from his own little garden and they looked 
like a ray of sunshine. I shall never forget 
what Mr. Kimball, the minister, said to us. 



of Primrose Street 47 

Xook', he said, 'at that exquisite mosaic. 
If a man Hke that can do such a marvelous 
piece of work with such rough handhng 
what may not the great and good Father do 
with this httle broken hfe. Is it not a 
striking analogy?' And ever since that 
afternoon we have thought and talked much 
about the incident and have grown to love 
and admire the man in the brown sweater 
almost as much as we love Mr. Kimball, 
for he opened our eyes to a great and wonder- 
ful truth. Little Philip's life shall blossom 
forever in the Paradise of God. " 

The room was in silence again for neither 
could speak, and in a few moments the 
visitor arose and with but a pressure of the 
white hand which she held,she left the house. 

Two years later a baby girl came into the 
home of the Sheldons and Mrs. Carrington 
begged that the child might be given her 
name, Virginia, and to this the father and 
mother agreed, thus bearing witness to a 
forgiveness which was enduring. 



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